


Conspire to re-ignite

by janescott



Category: Glam RPF, Music RPF, Uh Huh Her
Genre: Angst, Canon Gay Character, F/F, RPF, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-17
Updated: 2011-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:45:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was supposed to be a short PWP to see if I could write femme slash. Like always, it turned into something else entirely. Many, many thanks to magenta  and fools_game for the beta and the hand-holding and encouragement. You rock, ladies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conspire to re-ignite

“So how’s the tour going?”

Cam rolls on to her back on the hotel bed, wincing when something pokes her in the leg. The room is as basic as it can be with twin beds, one nightstand and a small, poky bathroom. But unlike the last place, at least this one is _clean_.

“Oh you know, living the rockstar lifestyle.”

Sasha laughs at that, a giggle almost, and Cam smiles as the picture-flash of memory comes up – of Sasha giggling at one of Monte’s dirty jokes, her shoulders curling up towards her ears.

“Bit different from last year.”

Cam’s mouth suddenly feels dry, and she contemplates paying $10 or whatever the fuck for a bottle of water from the mini-bar.

“Um. Yeah,” she says, awkwardly, rubbing her suddenly sweaty palm on her leg, savouring the rough scratch of denim under her hand. It makes her feel grounded. Like she’s not suddenly going to fly into a million pieces and shatter.

“I always think …” Sasha’s voice trails off into silence and Cam has to work hard to find enough air in her lungs before she can fill it.

“Think what?”

“That first time. For some reason I always think it was after the slaughterhouse gig. But it wasn’t, was it?”

 _Empty backstage room. Sasha’s breath hot on her neck; Sasha’s hand sliding down, her fingers searching …_

Cam blanks for a moment on what to say. There are a million responses crowding into her mind suddenly, pushing to be heard, but she chooses a relatively safe route: “N-no. It was a few nights later. I don’t remember the town. Neil would know the name of it.”

"Mmm … I remember that it was really hot. Like it must’ve been over a hundred degrees.”

 _line of sweat trailing down the side of Cam’s neck, Sasha’s fingers sliding into a different kind of wetness as she flattens her tongue to catch the droplet. Cam groans and bites down on her lip. She’s getting there, and fast which is fucking with her head. She’s not used to losing control of herself this quickly but something about the oppressive heat of the room and Sasha’s scent and her fingers sliding up, searching …_

Cam has nothing to say back that’s not completely inane so she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to let it out on a quiet exhale.

“I know what you’re doing,” Sasha says, her voice sounding amused. “I can hear you breathing out.”

It’s a technique that Cam uses when she’s nervous. She lets herself have one deep breath. Just one to centre herself.

 _\- why only one? Sasha lying on the band bus sofa, her legs a careless, pretty sprawl as she idly plays on Neil’s DS._

 _Cam curls her legs under at the other end of the sofa, careful not to touch._

 _\- Because … that’s all that I should need to get myself under control. Any more and it feels like a crutch._

 _Sasha looks up from the game, her eyebrows halfway up her forehead in a now-familiar expression of amusement._

 _\- Listen to you, Miss intense._

 _She slides off the sofa and stands, stretching her arms up to the roof of the bus. It’s early on in the tour, but Cam already feels a little bit helpless around Sasha._

 _She’s wearing cotton pants and a white t-shirt that rides up when she stretches, revealing a tempting line of skin; flat stomach perfectly framed._

 _Cam digs her fingers into her legs, closing her eyes. It’s late and they’re the only people awake. It feels intimate in a way that it shouldn’t – in a way that she’s not ready for. She jumps when she feels Sasha’s breath next to her ear._

 _\- Bet I could make you lose control, she says._

 _Then she’s gone, and Cam feel like she’s just run a race, adrenaline coursing through her body._

“Caught huh?” Cam says, wanting to ask Sasha why she’s calling now, when they haven’t seen each other since the end of Adam’s tour. Haven’t spoken until now, with Sasha calling out of the clear blue sky and talking as though they just spoke yesterday. But she doesn’t feel brave. She never feels brave around Sasha.

“I know you too well.” Sasha’s voice is low for a second; smoky-dark and intimate. Cam’s not ready for that, thinks that maybe she’ll never be ready and for a second her mouth feels too dry to form words.

She coughs and casts about for something to say that’s not _that road_. Sasha may have opened the door, but it’s nothing Cam wants to talk about on the phone. Not after so many months.

 _Cam groans, trying to keep her voice low, as Sasha’s thumb grazes lightly over her clit, sparking a million nerve-endings into life. Cam tightens her fingers on Sasha’s waist, digging her nails in. Sasha’s breath is a sudden, hot gasp against her neck. She feels her heart thump once, and then they’re kissing, Sasha’s tongue pushing hard into her mouth even as she presses in harder with her fingers, her thumb and it’s all too much. Cam comes fast, feeling it pulse through her like another heartbeat, and she’s gasping and weak._

 _They jump apart when someone knocks on the door, loud._

 _\- I don’t know who’s in there and I don’t give a fuck but we’re leaving in five – with or without you.  
\- Neil, Sasha says, quietly, her face alight with mischief._

 _Cam can only nod as she does up her jeans with shaking fingers._

 _\- You –_

 _\- Raincheck. C’mon. We gotta go._

 

“So, um, we’re doing a show in LA next week. I think Adam’s going to be there.”

“Already got my ticket,” Sasha says, and Cam can’t read anything in her tone besides a light, bright cheeriness. If Sasha’s acting, she deserves the Oscar. Mentally Cam chides herself for being bitchy, and tunes back in just in time: “And I better get a backstage pass, Miss intense. I’ll see you there.”

Before Cam can formulate a coherent reply, Sasha’s gone.

She puts her phone down and lies back on the bed, one arm hanging off the side.

She’s still there when Leisha and the rest of the band and crew come back with food and a couple of bottles of wine. They eat, drink; talk music for a few hours until the rest of the band and crew fade away and it’s just Cam and Leisha, sharing the last bottle of wine, tucked up together on Cam’s bed.

“Sasha called,” Cam says, out of nowhere. She’s a little buzzed; not drunk exactly, but she’s definitely drunk enough wine tonight to apparently fuzzy her normal defences.

Leisha turns her head on the pillow and blinks a few times, absorbing the information. “Ah,” she says finally, handing Cam the nearly empty bottle. “Your tour girlfriend.”

Cam drains the dregs and puts the bottle on the floor, grimacing at the taste.

“No. No no no.”

 

 _Nothing happens for a few more days. There are more shows, and the heat feels like a living thing; Cam’s lungs feel dry and used. Adam’s permanently attached to a water bottle, and conserving his voice by using his phone to text and DM everyone – even if they’re sitting right next to him._

 _Then, finally, after what feels like forever on the road, they have a precious two days off. Two days in a hotel, with air conditioning, and room service. Everyone’s looking forward to it – their own space for a little while; where they’re not living on top of each other._

 _\- Much as I love you all, Sutan says idly, combing his fingers through Tommy’s long fringe, - What I really want is to not see_ any _of you for the next two days._

 _It’s a sentiment they all share._

 _Cam takes a deep breath when she closes the door of her room behind her and lets it out slowly, listening to the sheer luxury of _silence_._

 _Her plans are pretty simple: shower, room service, sleep. In that order. She’s just out of the shower, rubbing at her hair with a towel and wrapping herself in the huge bathrobe when someone knocks on her door._

 _Pausing, she considers not answering it. She hasn’t ordered room service yet, and there’s a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door. Puffing out a breath, Cam drops the towel and opens the door just enough to see Sasha, leaning against the frame. She smiles when she sees Cam; a wide, bright grin that lights up her whole face, and Cam’s letting her in before she’s really aware of moving._

“Saying ‘no’ a thousand times doesn’t make it not true,” Leisha points out, rolling on to her side, propping her head on her hand.

“You can’t sleep here,” Cam says, ducking around the topic. “The bed’s too small.”

Leisha raises her eyebrows at that, because neither of them could stand up to a strong wind and the bed’s a little narrow, but it is a double, but she just rolls on to her back, putting her hands behind her head. Cam grumbles and dodges an elbow but doesn’t say anything else.

“You suck at changing the subject,” Leisha says, cheerfully. “What about Sasha? Tell me everything. Give me your girl-angst.”

“My _girl-angst?_ ”

Leisha side-eyes her without turning her head. “Yes. Your girl-angst. The doctor is in. Now spill.”

Cam closes her eyes and huffs a put-upon sigh. “I have no angst. There is no angst. There is nothing to tell you, doctor, I swear. Happy?”

Cam opens her eyes to find Leisha peering down at her, her blond hair falling around her face. Impatiently Leisha tucks it behind her ear, and searches Cam’s face so intently that Cam begins to shift uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

“Liar,” she says eventually. “But it’s your turn to drive in the morning, so I’m not going to beat it out of you – yet,” she adds as she rolls off Cam’s bed, grabs her washbag and heads into the bathroom.

 _Sasha leans back against the door, her head cocked to one side, like she’s listening to something only she can hear._

 _\- I wasn’t sure you’d open the door. But I figured … perfect time to collect on that raincheck. I believe you owe me, Miss intense._

 _\- Owe you, Cam says, blankly._

 _\- For the other night. When we were interrupted. You owe me, she says, again._

 _Her hands are flat against the door, one leg bent up, feet bare. She’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt that’s just on the wrong side of tight, framing her breasts and flat stomach. Cam inexplicably feels more naked than Sasha, even though she’s head-to-toe covered in the hotel bathrobe._

 _Sasha’s eyes are steady on her face, frank and appraising. Cam’s palms feel sweaty, suddenly, despite the air-conditioning and she wipes them on the robe._

 _She feels unsteady – like she’s going to stumble and fall if she takes one step. Frozen to the spot as she is, Cam feels_ want _coiling low in her belly, like an electric whip. She lets her eyes roam over Sasha’s body _ lingering on the line of her legs, the V-shape her shorts make, the slight swell of her breasts …_

Cam’s thankful to be back on the road the next morning. She’s behind the wheel, which means Leisha can’t continue her interrogation. They talk, but keep to light, surface topics, skimming lightly over everything from the setlist to mild bickering over who’s turn it is to be in charge of the van’s ipod.

Cam focuses on driving; on the road ahead, the venue, the gig. She does her best to relegate Sasha to a small corner of her mind; folding her memories into the small spaces between the here-and-now.

And it works, after a fashion. Cam’s mostly taken up with the tour, and the shows; with Leisha and the band and crew. But Sasha … Sasha has a way of slipping through the cracks. Of finding the fault lines in Cam’s defences and picking away at them - even when she’s not around.

She starts randomly texting and DM-ing Cam. Sometimes twice a day, sometimes nothing for two or three days. It’s nothing outstanding or intimate – mostly Sasha sends ‘how are you’ type messages, or jokes.

Sometimes she sends a picture. It’s usually a slice – a glimpse of a shoulder, or a leg frozen in a dance move.

The night before they’re due to play in LA, Sasha sends one last message: “break a leg, Miss intense. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The accompanying image is a MySpace classic phone-in-the-mirror of Sasha’s face. She looks gorgeous and mischevious all at once, her eyes made up with thick liner and some kind of glittery eyeshadow, her full lips outlined in a shiny gloss that catches the light, and Cam stares at the image until Leisha snatches the phone out of her hand.

Cam makes a half-hearted grab for it, but knows that she’s reached the limits of Leisha’s patience. She’s managed to avoid talking about Sasha after the first phone call, but she also knows as far as Leisha is concerned, she’s been living on borrowed time.

Cam throws herself back on the bed, flinging her arms wide in a gesture of surrender.

Leisha gets on the bed, nudging at Cam until she moves over to make room. Like a pretty little guru, Leisha crosses her legs, and holds the phone up so Cam can see the picture.

“No show tonight. We don’t have to leave until late tomorrow. So. Talk. What happened?”

Cam stares up at the hotel room ceiling. She’s asked herself that over and over again, and she’s never come up with a good answer.

“We … hooked up a couple of times. On the tour. It got – weird, I guess? Maybe for both of us, I don’t really know for sure. It … only happened a couple of times. And - I don’t know. I just think – I don’t think you can trust relationships that are built on nothing more than proximity. And I told myself that was all that this was.”

Cam rolls on to her side as Leisha looks like she’s about to say something. “That didn’t come out right. I mean, yes, I was … attracted to Sasha. Of course I was. She made me feel …” Cam drifts off and looks down as she starts picking at the faded bedspread.

“Made you feel like what,” Leisha asks, her voice soft as she hands Cam back her phone.

Cam stares down at the image again, Sasha done up like she's about to go on stage, or hit the clubs - a glittering, gleaming moment frozen in time.

She looks untouchable.

“Helpless, mostly. Scared. Turned on. I don’t –” A small laugh escapes that sounds too close to a sob for Cam’s liking. She takes a deep breath and lets it out, listening to the exhale roll out of her lungs.

She looks up at Leisha, still sitting in the same position, with her chin propped on one hand, her eyes full of concern.

“Tell me what happened.”

Cam’s mind rolls back to the second time. To what Sasha called the rain-check night. She closes her eyes, but reaches out her hand, and smiles when she feels Leisha’s fingers tangle with her own.

 _Cam doesn’t remember moving, or shedding the bathrobe like an unwanted second skin. The next thing she remembers is pinning Sasha to the door, her hands a pale frame for Sasha’s face, making her skin tones look darker and deeper than usual._

 _Then they’re kissing, and Sasha tastes like toothpaste and orange tictacs. Cam lines their bodies up so every point is touching and chases Sasha’s taste back into her mouth with her tongue._

 _She reaches down and peels off Sasha’s t-shirt, discarding it on the floor. She steps back for a moment and lets her gaze linger on Sasha’s body – her dancer’s form; her small, perfectly formed breasts, her flat, lightly muscled abdomen … Cam wants to taste all of it. She’s dizzy with need and desire, and she’s completely terrified._

The encounter flashes through Cam’s mind as she talks to Leisha. She gives her the bare bones of what happened, leaving the details and textures in her memory. Leisha is studying her closely, though, and Cam knows she’s reading a lot between the lines.

“Okay,” Leisha says, getting up and rifling through the mini-fridge, coming back with two tiny vodka bottles. She tosses one to Cam and opens the other as she sits back down on the bed.

Cam twists the cap off and takes a small drink, savouring the feel of it in her mouth – icy-cold with the alcohol a sharp sting in the back of her throat.

“So. You and Sasha … got together a couple of times. I understand that. And I can fill in the blanks. And ... the angst. Comes from - you being scared of a relationship? Of over-thinking how you met? Of not trusting yourself? Baby, how many times have you done that to yourself?"

Cam sighs and drains the rest of her vodka, discarding the empty bottle on the floor. "That … wasn’t all of it. I mean – it factored in, yeah. But – that wasn’t all of it. And it was worse this time I still had to see Sasha every day. We still had to work together. Be together. It was ... it was hard."

 _Cam starts on Sasha's neck, a long, elegant line, tipped back against the door; Sasha's hands tangled in her hair._

 _\- Cam. Cam, she says, her voice whisper quiet._

 _\- Just. Let me. Cam breathes the words against Sasha's neck seeking out a tender spot behind her ear. She scrapes her teeth there, one hand braced against Sasha's stomach, her fingers spread out, like she needs to pin Sasha in place, even though she's pretty sure Sasha's not going anywhere for a while._

 _Sasha digs her fingers into Cam's scalp, scratching lightly with her fingernails, pulling her up for another deep kiss._

 _\- Stay - stay right there, Cam says when they break the kiss. She can feel need and desire throbbing deep and insistent and it scares her in the same place as the first time in the dressing room, even as she presses her lips to Sasha's skin again, the need to mark and maybe possess, overwhelming everything._

 _Sasha doesn't say anything else, just a soft groan when Cam nips at the skin below the hollow at the base of her throat, her hands still tangled in Cam's hair, but soft now; almost relaxed._

 _Cam breathes an almost reverent sigh against Sasha's neck which earns her a shiver in return, a ripple against her own skin that sparks a nearly unbearable heat low down, at the base of her spine and deep in her belly._

 _She takes her time, mapping a path over Sasha's skin with her mouth, memorising the silky slide of it under her lips as she traces lazily down to one breast, flicking her tongue over the nipple, which hardens with the lightest touch. Cam presses her tongue against it, slowly pulling it into her mouth, a low moan escaping her throat. Sasha curls her fingers around Cam's wrist, trying to push her hand lower._

 _\- Cam. Fuck, please._ please _.  
Cam doesn’t say anything, just draws her mouth back, slowly, and stares at the dark brown now-swollen peak of Sasha’s nipple. Gently she moves Sasha’s hand, pressing it back against the door. Sasha groans and bites her lip, but she keeps her hand still.  
Cam smiles, and brushes her thumb over Sasha’s oversensitive nipple, before sliding her hands down to Sasha’s hips, fitting the curve of her bones into the palms of her hands as she slips to her knees, pressing feather-light kisses to Sasha’s stomach as she goes._

 _The hotel room is silent as the last rays of the sun slant through the windows, the only sounds now coming from low and deep in Sasha’s throat as Cam pulls her shorts down and off. Sasha’s bare underneath and Cam has to stop for a moment as_ heat _flares sudden and low and it’s all she can do to stop herself plunging her hand between her own legs where the insistent pulse is getting louder and louder._

 _Instead she presses a kiss beside Sasha’s hip, as she shifts her legs, spreading them wider to give Cam access._

 _Cam presses forward, all of her senses focused on the narrow V between Sasha’s legs. She reaches out with her thumb and presses it lightly against Sasha’s clit, smiling when she’s rewarded with a low moan, and a hand tangling in her hair again._

 _Cam follows the press of her thumb with a light flick of her tongue - pushing a little bit against Sasha's clit, careful to keep the pressure light. Her own nerve-endings are sparking and pulsing, she can only imagine how Sasha’s feeling right now._

 _Sasha moans again, louder this time, as her blunt fingernails dig into Cam's scalp, tugging hard at her hair._

 _\- Cam, fuck, I'm close,_ please _._

 _Cam closes her eyes and takes a breath, inhaling the dizzying scent of Sasha's arousal that floods her senses. It's almost too much and she has to pause, listening for a second to her racing heart and to the pulse of arousal much lower down, a relentless background that’s demanding to be heard_.

 _It has to wait, though, because Sasha is right in front of her; her thighs trembling with the effort of staying upright. Both her hands are tangled in Cam’s hair now and she’s babbling a string of alternating curses and entreaties as Cam sucks Sasha’s clit into her mouth, running her tongue over and around the tiny bundle of nerve-endings._

 _She pushes further back as Sasha shifts her legs again, seeking with her fingers and her tongue, needing to pull those sounds out of Sasha’s throat; make her louder until she can’t stop herself._

 _It doesn’t take long, after the prolonged tease, for Sasha to fall over the edge, flooding Cam’s senses with the scent and taste of her arousal, her thighs shaking, spasming around Cam’s tongue._

 _Cam rides out the aftershocks, her hands digging into Sasha’s thighs. As soon as Sasha stills, the only sound in the now-dark room her breath drawing in harsh, Cam pushes back, and shoves her own hand between her legs, unable to wait._

 _She’s so wet that she’s almost slippery and her fingers slide until they find purchase and she spreads her legs wide, unable to think of anything but_ now _and_ oh god _, and even those fractured thoughts desert her when she feels Sasha’s mouth on her own; Sasha’s hand between her legs, her fingers sliding between Cam’s._

 _Cam comes so hard and fast that she thinks she’s going to pass out for a second, and rides the dizzying rush on a series of drawn-out breaths._

 _They lie tangled together on the floor for a while, a knot of arms and legs, and the slide of skin-on-skin that Cam always forgets how much she misses until she feels it again._

 _Sasha murmurs something against Cam’s neck about the bed being more comfortable and it’s not long before they’re sliding between cool sheets, and reaching out for each other again._

 _Cam falls asleep with one hand on Sasha’s chest, curving over her ribcage, the quiet sound of her breathing easily sending her off to sleep._

“And after the second time?” Leisha asks, draining the last of her bottle. “What happened after that?”

Cam shakes her head and looks down, her black hair framing her face and masking her expression. She waits until she’s sure she can speak without betraying how much it still hurts.

“I – nothing. Nothing happened. She … was gone. When I woke up, she was gone.”

 

“And you never – confronted her? Talked about it?”

 

Cam’s already shaking her head. “No. I didn’t know what to say. It was so – I didn’t know what it was, or what I wanted it to be, and I didn’t know what Sasha wanted … so – after a while I just … stopped wondering. I haven’t even spoken to her since the last night of the tour. And that was just – goodbye, good luck type stuff.”

 

Cam looks up to find Leisha studying her face, her eyes searching. “And now she’s called you, and … what?”

 

“I guess that’s where the girl-angst comes in,” Cam says, with a rueful twist of her mouth. “I don’t know. She started talking about … about it and then we talked about the show and … I don’t know.”

 

Leisha puffs out a sigh, stirring her long hair where it’s hanging over her face.

 

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Cam stares down at her hands, and flexes her fingers, before starting to pick at her cuticles. She feels fidgety and exposed, like she’s just taken her clothes off in front of a total stranger, even though Leisha is closer to her than a sister.

 

Leisha reaches out and takes Cam’s hand, stopping her restless fidgeting. Cam takes a breath, and lets it out as slow as she can, her eyes still fixed on her hands.

 

“I guess … one way or the other I’ll find out tomorrow,” she says, finally, her steady voice belying her racing pulse and feeling of dread curling in her stomach.

 

“Cam. Look at me.” Leisha’s voice is so unusually stern that Cam finds herself looking up before she realises she’s done it.

 

“Whatever happens – it will be okay.”

 

Cam squeezes Leisha’s hand and manages to dig up a smile. “Yeah, I know.”

 

Cam’s distracted enough the next day in the flurry of getting ready for the show to not feel nervous about seeing Sasha again, until just before they’re due to go on stage, and suddenly she’s _there_ , bright and smiling and gorgeous. For a moment all Cam can do is stare, the same, helpless feeling that she felt every day early on in Adam’s tour going through her like an icy wind.

 

Before she can say or do anything, she’s being swept up by Adam, who’s come with his boyfriend to see the show. She lets his excited chatter wash over her and manages to focus on getting ready, even bantering with Leisha when she talks Adam into doing her hair for her.

 

When they get the two-minute call, Leisha glances at her quickly, and shoos Adam and Sauli out the door, so she’s left alone with Sasha.

 

“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all,” Sasha says, her eyebrows halfway up her forehead, the gesture so familiar and so very _Sasha_ that it hurts to see.

 

Cam bites her lip to distract herself, shakes her head and leans back on the dressing room counter, her hands digging into the splintery wood. “I’m – sorry about that. Leisha … thinks we have shit to work out.”

 

“She’s not wrong but there’s not much we can do in 90 seconds,” Sasha points out, prosaic as ever. She bites her lip in an unconscious imitation of Cam’s gesture, and then seems to reach a resolution, her shoulders squaring and settling.

 

“Do you … have plans? For after the show?”

 

Cam curls her fingers around the wood, rubbing one finger against a jagged piece sticking out from the rest. “I, uh – no. No, I don’t. I mean, we’re leaving tomorrow, but … no.”

 

“Could we. I mean we should.”

 

Cam glances at the door, aware that she’s out of time.

 

“Meet me here, after the show,” she says, quickly, before losing her nerve as she moves towards the stage. Sasha reaches out as she goes past, brushing her fingers over Cam’s arm. Cam doesn’t have time to stop, should be out there already, but she pauses anyway, looking back.

 

“I’ll be here,” Sasha says, her words sounding like more than a promise, but all Cam offers in return – in the here and now – is a tentative smile.

 

She wants to believe it. Her heart wants to believe it, her body already believes it; responding in the moment to the promise behind the light brush of Sasha’s fingers.

The show is amazing; one of those nights where everything – the music, the audience – the on-stage interaction between herself and Leisha comes together in one, perfect whole.

 

As perfect as the night is, and as amazing it has been to reconnect with Adam all over again, Cam feels a shudder of apprehension under the high she’s riding as she, Leisha and the band come off stage after the last encore.

 

Leisha slips her hand into Cam’s as they make their way to the dressing room. “What if she’s not there?” Cam asks, voicing the fear that’s been burrowing under her elation all night like an unwelcome parasite.

 

“What if she is?” Leisha whispers back, her voice barely a breath against Cam’s ear before she darts away, turning back long enough to hold up her hands, her fingers crossed.

 

Cam laughs at that, and that feels good; hearing her own laughter for the first time in what feels like months. It feels like a weight lifts from her shoulders and she pushes open the dressing room door, telling herself that ready for whatever might be on the other side.

 

She won’t admit to anyone – not to Sasha, not to Leisha and least of all to herself – the profound relief she feels when she opens the door and sees Sasha, sitting cross-legged on the counter, waiting.

 

Cam’s across the room in a couple of long strides, her mouth on Sasha’s; tasting the familiar citrus echo of her favourite tictacs before she can even process what it all means.

 

“You know, we need to talk …” Sasha says, when they finally part for air.

 

Cam nods, unwilling to break the spell. “I know. And. We will. We will. I need to. I need to yell at you for a bit and you need to tell me why, and – ”

 

Sasha kisses her again, tangling her fingers through Cam’s hair, and winding her legs around her waist, drawing her in as close as possible.

 

Sasha murmurs words against Cam’s neck that may be an apology, or an explanation, or something else altogether, but right now Cam doesn’t care. With Sasha’s lips on her skin, and her body pressed right up against her, all Cam knows is that she feels like she’s finally coming home.

 

Sasha rests her forehead against Cam’s for a moment, and the only sound in the room is their shared breathing; heavy in the silent air.

 

“So … your place or mine?” Sasha asks, with a quirk of eyebrow, and for the second time that night, Cam bursts into laughter, clear and bright and loud.


End file.
